


365 Songs

by BellaMed



Category: 365 Dni | 365 Days (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Roughness, Sexual Tension, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaMed/pseuds/BellaMed
Summary: Short snippets inspired by Michele Morrone's song lyrics and by the film. They probably won't all be linked as one story, though the first 2 are. Chapter titles are song titles. I've been writing a chapter work but feel like this idea might be interesting until I feel ready to post the other one.
Relationships: Laura Biel/Massimo Torricelli
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Dark Room

He was a professional photographer. He often worked with a Canon digital and various expensive lenses, but when he had more time on his hands, he still liked the feel of an old fashioned camera. You had to treat it right, it took real skill. He processed the film himself. It was time-consuming but a huge part of the process; he wouldn’t want to risk some idiot ruining his best shots. The wait as the chemicals developed was part of the thrill for him too, there were no instant results like with a digital. He liked to get his hands dirty too, feel his work. The pictures were unpredictable: sometimes disappointing but often magical. That brought him a satisfaction that digital just couldn't match.

One day he’d been out with his Leica M-A, loaded with a fresh film roll. He sat on some stone church steps, not having a clear idea what he wanted today. He’d just see where things took him. He took some mediocre snaps of the other buildings to warm up, more of the crowds of tourists.

Some young women walked past, dressed in short shorts and tiny skirts. He scoffed, watching them through the lens for a moment but not bothering to press the shutter. One glanced over at him and flicked her hair, probably thinking she was the subject of his photo.

Some teenagers on a school trip passed in the other direction, mucking about trying to impress one another, oblivious to his lens.

Then, two women stopped to look at a map a few metres from him. At first, they looked like they’d have fit right into the other group of girls. One was wearing denim shorts and a little top, and the other a white sundress. Just as he was about to look for something more worthy of his camera, white-dress girl took off her sunglasses and perched them in her tied back dark hair, framing her face. He turned his camera back on and quickly got a close range photo of her face, then another of her whole body once she had turned partly away. He couldn’t explain why, but something drew him to her over her friend. Her face wasn’t classically beautiful but had interesting features: piercing dark eyes and a thin nose. She put her sunglasses back on and they walked away, apparently not having noticed him.

Next, he tried some character shots of an old local guy, sat in an open air cafe, smoking a cigarette. The man looked at ease with himself, despite his wrinkles, the walking stick leaning against his chair. He might try black and white for these.

He crossed the piazza to get to a side street, where he knew there was a good café for lunch. He planned to take a few last photos inside the church after eating and then head home.

He hadn’t quite finished the film and decided to leave developing it for a day or two, when he might take the last few photos nearer home. There was no particular rush.

That night though, he dreamed of the woman in the white dress. She was alone this time. She looked at the map and then came up to him to ask him directions. She spoke Italian but in a foreign accent. When he woke up, her face was his first thought. He needed to see it again properly. He looked at the digital alarm clock beside the bed: 04:16. He rarely woke at this kind of time, being late to bed most nights.

He swung his legs out of bed, reaching for the bedside light. He still needed sleep but not as much as he needed to see her, and this was the only way. He couldn’t picture her properly in his mind but he might have a good photo or two on his film. He went downstairs.

He picked up the camera and took the last few pictures necessary to finish the film: quick, crappy shots of his messy kitchen and one of his own sleep-deprived face. It wasn’t often a girl made him do something like this: sacrifice sleep and waste film.

He took the stairs down to his little dark room, turning on the unshaded red lightbulb. He mixed the different trays of fluid and took out photographic paper. He put the radio on as he usually did in here. He wouldn’t rush this, and yet he wanted to see the results urgently.

The analogue radio was in between stations, crackling and sounding like it was about to explode. He tuned it to a station he liked. He didn’t have a digital one in his dark room. It was expensive to buy more than one, and besides the classic one fit right in with this old school photography method.

“God, sweet lady,” he said softly to the picture as her features finally started to show in the developing stage. He rinsed it then hung it up to dry beside the one showing her in her white dress. “How can I find you again, my angel? You are like a drug to me. I have to have my dose now, or I’ll die.” His heart was pounding; he actually felt like he might.

He usually liked working down there, but now he willed himself back in time to where he could have spoken to her, touched her even. Why hadn’t he done it? He processed the rest of the photos, but could barely focus on what they showed or whether they were any good.

He felt angry with himself. He smacked a fist onto the bench, looking up at her. “Save me from this fucking dark room.”

The best he could hope for was to go back to the piazza tomorrow and ask around in the tourist spots and bars, but it was highly unlikely he would find his lady again. He dragged his feet back up to bed, holding the two photos. He fell asleep with her image ingrained on his brain, hoping he might dream of her once more.


	2. Do It Like That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that some of this might make more sense if you have listened to Michele's album as well as seen the film.

He checked everywhere he could think of, even went to the taxi rank to ask a few drivers, showing them her photo. Nothing but quizzical looks. After a few days, he’d given up. She must have only been in the city for the day, or flown back home already. He wondered which country she was from. Germany perhaps? But her accent seemed softer. He laughed out loud, realising he hadn’t even heard her speak in real life, only in his dream.

Later that week, he was walking down a street, coming back from a freelance meeting to try and sell some of his photos. Photos he’d taken months ago. He lit a cigarette.

Then he saw her. She was eating a vanilla ice cream. Licking it like it was a man. Or was that just his dirty mind?

She was wearing white again, a linen trouser suit this time. The fabric of her top caressed her breasts like he wanted to. She looked so pretty. He’d learned his lesson. He couldn’t let this chance pass him up again. He needed to get it right though, none of his usual masculine bluster and flirting. He needed to be gentle for once in his life. He put out his cigarette and then went up to her.

“I think I’ve seen you before somewhere. You’re beautiful,” he said. She stared at him, reactionless. But girls liked to be told they were beautiful, didn’t they? Maybe she didn’t actually speak Italian. “You are so pretty,” he tried in English.

She carried on licking her ice cream and started to turn away.

Fuck it, he thought. “Please don’t leave! Per favore, Signora.” In desperation, he grabbed her arm, abandoning for a moment any thoughts of being gentle.

She looked at his large, tattooed hand gripping her arm, surprised but apparently not annoyed.

“Forgive me.” He reluctantly let go of her. “Will you come for a coffee with me?”

“OK then. You are persistent, I’ll say that for you,” she said, laughing. It was the first time he’d heard her speak but her accent sounded familiar.

He asked her name. It was Laura, and he told her his: Massimo.

They took a seat in front of a nearby café. They ordered coffees. She finished her ice cream as he watched admiringly. She ran her tongue suggestively around what was left of the ice cream, then put her mouth around the cone. She could do it like that to him any time. He tried to keep his words cleaner than his thoughts. They spoke about where she was from, Poland, and what each of them did or liked to do - work, life, movies. It only added to the burning obsession he had started to feel for her in the dark room. Massimo wanted to take her back there and fuck her over the wooden bench. Then up to his bed for some more.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He put a hand on Laura’s thigh under the table, needing to take possession of her. “Tell me, baby, do you wanna … fuck?”


	3. Watch Me Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back, if you've been reading. Sorry to keep you waiting. The next 2 chapters don't continue from the previous ones (they are canon/film characters now rather than strangers). 4 is already written and I'll post it soon. :)

Laura was sitting on her hotel bed in a towelling dressing gown, freshly showered. She’d put the TV on and got a drink from the mini-bar, but she couldn’t focus on either and kept glancing at the door. Massimo had checked them both in and wished her a good night. She’d been surprised they had separate rooms.

_“What if I can’t sleep?”_

_“Then come and find me across the hall, baby girl,”_ he’d said, and winked.

It was barely an hour later; she wished her willpower was better than this. It would feed his ego to see her so soon. But that sexy fucker pushed all her buttons. She was curious to see his room. She would go and see it, talk to him, but nothing more.

She went out to knock at his door. He greeted her, naked save a towel around his waist, body language exactly as swaggering as it was fully clothed. It was hard not to look at his defined chest and strong, thick biceps.

“I knew you would come.”

She snorted at his smugness but followed him in, the door closing behind them.

His room was much bigger than her own and the decor was more extravagant. She looked around, taking in the four poster bed. Off behind that there was a doorway, perhaps to an ensuite bathroom. Her eyes were drawn back to the huge painting behind him. It was a portrait of Massimo beside a male lion.

_"O kurwa."_  


"How big is your ego that you want to see this from your bed? Did someone break the mirror that used to be here?”

“It was a gift,” he said, gritting his teeth and trying not to rise to her ridicule.

“Sure. The great Massimo. Slayer of lions and tiny women.” She sat herself down on the couch in front of the painting.

“Stop it,” he said in a warning tone. He padded towards her, barefoot. He stood tall, clenching his fist and holding it near his face.

  
“What if I don’t want to stop it?” she replied, opening her legs so that he could almost see her bare pussy under her dressing gown. It was so easy to taunt him like this. 

He glowered. He had had enough of her disrespect. She needed to be taught a lesson. Or given what she wanted. Either way.

He took a couple of steps closer to her and dropped his towel to the ground. “Take it. I know you want to.” He watched her as she checked out his erect cock. She certainly didn’t look unwilling.

He was a delicious sight but she had more resolve than that. “In your dreams.”

Still teasing him. Still fighting it. “Are you saying no?”

“You have people for everything. Let one of them do it."

"Are you sure?"

Laura stood up, pausing dangerously near to his cock for a few cruel seconds then laughed. She walked back to the door, but the handle wouldn’t turn.

Massimo didn’t follow.

“Let me out! I want to leave.” There was sudden fear in her voice. She didn’t want to play this game anymore.

She went back over to him, regaining some nerve. “Open the fucking door, _now_.”

He held her face then stroked it, but his expression held something less than gentle.

She was playing with fire. And now he was going to teach her what it felt like to burn for someone and not have that desire quenched.

He put his lips close to her but instead of kissing, he just bit out, “sit on the bed.” He pushed her roughly onto it. He moved in towards her, stalking his prey.

She was forced to lay back. Massimo was on top of her now, his powerful thighs either side of her small waist, his weight and his thick erection pressing down onto her. He reached upwards. Metal clinked. He grabbed her left arm, quickly enclosing her wrist in unforgiving leather.

Her arm was chained to the bed. Her stomach flipped. She struggled, trying to free herself, but it was hopeless. She was already partly restrained and he was too strong. In seconds he had her other arm outstretched and cuffed in place like the first one. One of her breasts had been exposed and she couldn't move to cover it back up, nor hide her hardening nipple from him. Her body was betraying her; she didn’t want him to see that any part of her was enjoying this.

“Let me go!”

He ignored her and instead secured her ankles with more cuffs. Unlike her arms, he did this slowly, almost reverently. They were held slightly apart by a metal bar.

She jerked her legs to test if there was any give. Something clicked; her ankles were further apart now and she couldn’t move them back. She was splayed out on the bed, entirely at his mercy.

He smirked. “I was hoping you would do that. It’s a spreader bar. You have just given me even better access to all of your body. You are completely immobilised and spread open for me. I'm going to watch you burn ... right where I want you to."

What did he mean? Hot wax or something? She trembled.

He trailed his finger down her chest, in between her breasts, down past her navel. He was nearly at her clit.

"Oh God. I'm begging you."

"Are you asking me to start?”

“Fuck you!”

He took his hand away. Its absence was almost painful. Her poor horny flesh nearly drove her to beg again.

He got off the bed and stood at the end of it, holding the bar above him as if he was about to start doing pull-ups, his biceps bulging. Other than closing her eyes, she had no choice but to take in his glorious naked body.

“This time, since you think it is so beneath you, someone else will bring me pleasure. I always get it one way or another, Laura.”

She heard heels approaching. There was probably always someone waiting to service his needs. She bit her lip. Despite her growing desire, she wouldn’t be the first to give in. Massimo seated himself on the couch, in Laura’s line of vision, with his arms stretched out on either side of him. That ridiculous painting was behind him.

The woman was wearing something skimpy in black leather. Laura didn’t see her face but she had dark hair up in a high ponytail. She stopped to kneel between Massimo’s legs. His dark eyes appraised the woman in front of him momentarily and then returned to Laura’s restrained form. He nodded slightly, eyes still fixed on Laura, and the woman took his hard cock in her mouth.

As she worked on him he began to look and sound increasingly aroused. Laura couldn’t help but watch, and he hardly took his eyes off her. She was bound to the bed and just an observer. He was the one fully naked and receiving pleasure, and yet somehow it felt as intimate and as erotic to Laura as it would had he been watching her masturbate.

She felt a pang of jealousy when his eyes left her to look back at the woman blowing him. He held her by the pony tail as she bobbed up and down. He quickened the pace, pushing her down with more force now. He looked into Laura’s eyes and came with a moan and a grimace. It was torturous only watching from a distance, her hands unable to touch either him or herself.

The other woman got up and left. He had no more need for her.

Laura was desperate to feel his hands on her body. He looked sated, drowsy, but she still hoped he had plans for her after making her watch. He was approaching now. Perhaps that was lust on his face again after all.

“You look so inviting like this, Laura. I have you immobilised and I can do whatever I want to you. I can use any part of your body however I please.”

He bent over her spread legs at the end of the bed and started to lick her inner thigh, ever so gently. He nipped at her flesh, moving up slowly.

_"Proszę Cię._ Please, I’m begging you …” she moaned.

He moved his mouth away, not reaching the place she was so wet for him. He grabbed her exposed breast in his large hand, and then took her jaw, tilting her head away from his so she could feel his hot breath in her ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that they will hear you scream in Warsaw.” It sounded as much a promise as a threat.

But then nothing. Laura didn’t think she could handle it if he stopped now. She moaned some incomprehensible, desperate plea.

He let go of her and sat up. Something of the intensity had faded from his expression. Without speaking, he reached up and undid the cuffs that had been restraining her. He got off the bed and covered himself back up with the towel.

Laura’s limbs were freed but still she felt powerless to move them. She felt almost drugged, woozy from lust and emotion.

He sounded remote. “Get dressed. We have to be at my club in 2 hours.”

Anger penetrated her brain fog. The cruel bastard!


End file.
